I thought I had my life figured out at 12.
I know every obnoxious 12 year old thinks they know it all, but to me this was different. I did well in school without my parents pestering me, didn't date without my parents knowledge, and knew exactly what my life would look like 10 years down the line. I made plans to become a star, get married at 25, have kids by 27, have a dozen pets and open up women's shelters in India.
That's what 12 year old me daydreamed of.
As I sit here and write this 12 years later, I look back at my younger self and pat her on the back for being so unnervingly driven. But I feel sorry for her naïve eyes that had yet to gaze upon reality. Of course, adulthood isn't all that bad. There's booze, freedom, rights and well, you can do whatever the hell you want; but it comes with a price.
The path you take is never the one that you expected. Working hard doesn't get you the job you deserve. Loving hard doesn't get you the man you want. Being honest doesn't get you credit from the world. And karma doesn't always work in a straightforward fashion. Most of the time your heart aches for all the "would've beens," "could've beens," and "should've beens."
Well I'm done with that.
It took me this long to realize that no matter what I do and what it brings, there IS a long winded reason for it. We just don't have the capability of knowing what it is yet. I realize that for every time I felt pain, it only meant I was still alive and fighting to find a purpose in this thing we do called life. I realized that my anger and hatred towards unfortunate situations only made me more prepared for every time life decided to knock me down. And now, I finally realize that all of this energy is better spent trying to be a better person than I was yesterday, rather than feeling resentment towards all the bitterness the world can bring.
After all this time, I realize that my story has just begun. And I've just started writing it.